House Rules
by Iscah McKrae
Summary: A series of vignettes highlighting the evolving family relationship between Luke and Jess over the years.
1. Chapter 1  Cancer Stick

_**A/N: This story is set when Jess is eight years old, which would make Luke approximately 29. If my calculations are correct, this would probably make it about a year before Luke opened the diner. In this world, Luke currently lives in what was his parents' home, shortly before being forced to sell it, after struggling for years to try and pay off all the debts that his father's hospital care, funeral, and failing business had left behind. It's uncertain, and not terribly important, whether at this point the girlfriend mentioned briefly in the story would have been Rachel or Anna.**_

_**Before I get hate mail, saying that this story is OOC for Luke, stop and remember that Luke has always been a man of action, not swerving from a course once he's begun. Despite the fact that he's "bah-humbug" about town events, he's very traditional, and by-the-book. He practically worshipped his father, and was always prone to doing things the way he did. And this was probably the way his dad did things.**_

_**And, yeah, I feel really bad for both of them. Especially Jess. Poor kid just can't catch a break.**_

_Cancer Stick_

Why couldn't she leave well enough alone? Didn't she know he only came here to get away from her in the first place? He had a four day weekend away from school. Couldn't he spend it in peace? She was happy enough ignoring him when he was in the apartment. Why'd she have to get drunk off her butt and call while he was away, with her wheezy "_Jess, honey? Baby, whassa matter? Why don't you wanna talk to your mommy?"…Ugh. _He could practically taste the cheap liquor reeking from her breath through the mouthpiece of the phone. Worse still, he could hear Jake and his buddies in the background - one of them shouting incoherently, glass breaking, drunken guffaws. He shuddered, reminding himself that they weren't shouting at him, the breaking glass was over a hundred miles away, and the laughter wasn't at his expense. They couldn't touch him here. He was safe here. He sunk down onto the concrete steps with the sliding glass door at his back, pulling a paperback from his back pocket before he sat down all the way. He tucked it beneath his leg and fumblingly pulled out one of his smokes and a lighter from the pocket of his coat.

As he felt the nicotine enter his bloodstream, Liz's smarmy tone started to fade. Another puff, and the laughter filling his mind got farther away and stopped jeering at him quite as much. Another, and the shouting was no longer making him flinch. One more, and he could almost stop dreading those shards of glass. The story was even better. It took him out to the Midwest where the main character taught school and seemed to be falling for the guy who always drove her home on the weekends. That part was kinda sweet, if you liked that kind of thing. It was a relief to mentally live somewhere that the worst thing you had to deal with was bratty school kids…oh, and the possibility of freezing to death. Then again, there was that one crazy lady who stood over her with a knife in the middle of the night. _I guess nobody's life's perfect._

Twilight was falling, and Jess still sat, reading, squinting without noticing the fact that he was starting to have to squint. The screen door on the other side of the house opened and shut, and Luke's voice came through the fading light.

"Jess, are you out here? Oh, there you are. Dinner's ready. I thought you were up in your room, reading when you were done with your phone call, but when I went up there-" He stopped cold.

"_Jess!_" he shouted, suddenly, making Jess jump, and cough at the smoke this jolt caused him to inhale too quickly. Until that point, he'd still been caught up with the story and hardly heard his uncle speaking. But his name uttered in that tone, and the no-nonsense clomping stride straight at him, left no doubt that he was in trouble…_deep_ trouble. But, why? His mind started racing. _What did I do? I didn't do anything! I can't remember anything…no, I haven't done anything but read since I got here! Why is he mad? What could he be mad about? I mean, I heard him and his girlfriend arguing over the phone last night - even if he still won't admit it's his girlfriend. He could be mad about that. But, Luke wouldn't take that out on me. Not Luke._ That he was sure of. With Luke, if he was in trouble, there was a reason. There was a good reason. There was _always_ a reason. But right now, _there wasn't any reason._

Time for thinking had just run out.

Luke took the book from his hand, setting it on the step beside him, and pulled Jess to his feet. Taking him by the elbow, he forcibly dragged Jess across the yard and through the kitchen doorway. He snatched the cigarette from his other hand and crushed it on the floor beneath his foot. Jess just stared at him, too stunned to speak. Without a word, Luke sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, hauling Jess over his knee before he hardly knew what was happening.

"Luke, _no!_" he shouted, indignantly. He hadn't done anything wrong! _Why! _What the heck was this about?

And Luke _didn't! usually! spank! this! stinkin'! hard! _There were only a few things in Jess' life that he could count on. Scratch that. There was one. Only one. And that was Luke. When you called, he came. When something broke, he fixed it. He woke up at the same _blasted_ time every morning, and went to bed at the same _blasted _time every night. He even set the table in the same _stinkin'_ order for every _stinkin'_ meal! And when Jess was there and he got into real trouble, the _exact_ same thing happened every _single_ time. Luke called him to come and sit down, _then _he told Jess what he'd done wrong, _then_ he told some story that usually didn't make sense, but that Jess knew was supposed to help him understand why exactly he was in trouble. _Then_ came the spanking. It hurt, but not much. It was four or five whacks, _maybe, _six or seven. But _this_ was just _ridiculous! _He winced again, and bit down on his lip, wondering ruefully if spontaneous combustion was actually possible. _Jeez, Luke! ENOUGH!_

At that moment, Luke stopped as abruptly as he'd begun and lifted Jess to his feet. The searing heat of his backside found vent in Jess' eyes, and his small jaw clenched in anger, breathing heavily through his nostrils.

_That was COMPLETELY UNFAIR! It REALLY HURT! And I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!_ He'd learned a long time ago not to scream the words in his head. But, this was Luke, so they almost came out anyway. Luke bent down and snatched up the cigarette from the floor, holding it up in front of Jess' face.

_THAT'S what this is about! You never told me NOT TO!_

"This," Luke said distinctly and vehemently, "is a cancer stick!" Jess rolled his eyes.

_Oh, come on, Luke. I'm sure you can come up with something more original than that!_

"_This_," he continued, "is what killed your grandpa!"

_Oh._

"It _killed_ him!" Luke's voice cracked. Jess dropped his eyes to the ground in deference to the tears he heard in Luke's voice, and the pained look in the eyes he'd just lost enough of his own anger to notice were red-rimmed. "And, there's no way in _hell_ that I'm gonna stand around and watch it _KILL YOU TOO!_" His voice was shaking now, and Jess' head dropped even further before Luke caught hold of his chin, abruptly forcing eye contact. "_Is that clear?_"

It was clear. It was clear that he'd have to make sure he didn't smoke around Luke anymore. It was clear that there was no way he could explain to his uncle that back in his world, his music, his smokes, and his books were the only way he could survive. They were his only comfort, his only sanity, his only friends. It was clear that there was no way to express that without making things worse.

"Yes, Uncle Luke," he said meekly. Luke's hand dropped, and he nodded.

"Good." It was all he said. Jess turned to walk away…upstairs. 'Cause, this was over, right? He could go up to his room and try to pretend it didn't happen. He wasn't angry anymore. He wasn't. He still _resented_ it, but he wasn't angry. This was what he told himself. He mentally kept muttering as he reached the handrail and started to mount the stairs.

_Okay, there was a reason. You didn't _tell me_ there was a reason, but there was a reason. I_ understand_ the reason, but you still didn't tell me._ He wallowed in this for a few more steps. Luke's words, his tone, and the look on his face passed through Jess' memory, and he breathed deeply, not wanting to feel the stab that came with them.

Most kids wouldn't be insightful enough to draw the connection - to realize that the warmth radiating off the skin beneath the seat of his pants, along with the sharp punishment that had preceded it, was due to the intensity of the fear his uncle felt. They wouldn't know that fear was prompted by even more intense pain, or the fact that both the fear and the pain came from how hard it had been to lose his dad. But Jess had never been much like most kids. He knew things. He figured things out. He might not be able to get along with people, but for the most part, he usually understood them. Luke Danes loved his father more than anyone else on earth. Jess could barely remember his grandfather, but he knew how Luke talked about him. If it terrified Luke _that much _to lose his nephew the same way he lost his father . . . Jess stopped dead in his tracks as the full force of the thought hit him. For the first time in his life, he knew someone loved him.

He turned halfway up the stairs, to see Luke standing there by the kitchen table, next to the dinner he'd laid out for them to eat, looking up at him with worry etched all over his tired face. In some strange way, he felt like he was looking at his uncle for the first time. He stood there, just blinking for several long moments before the reality of the present came back to him.

Luke was looking back, clearly wondering why Jess was staring all of a sudden. He had to say something.

"Next time, tell me, okay?" Jess choked out, softly. Luke shifted from one foot to the other.

"What?" He was genuinely puzzled. Jess hunched his little shoulders together, and his head dipped eloquently forward, with a wounded look in his child-eyes.

"If there's something…you don't want me to do," he shrugged, "tell me." He watched the guilt gnaw itself into Luke's stance and expression. Luke tugged absently on his baseball cap, and crossed the distance between himself and his small nephew, keeping his eyes pinned to the floor. His lips were clamped tightly together, as if he was physically unable to open them, but he looked Jess full in the face, and gulped as his woeful blue eyes plead for forgiveness. Jess tipped one shoulder, and nodded, granting it. Luke's big, rough hand rumpled through the boy's curly hair, and he nodded in return, heaving a heavy, ragged sigh.

"I'll tell you," Luke finally agreed aloud, and slung his arm across the boy's shoulders, leading him back down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Come eat," he urged. He had no desire to eat, but that was another thing you could never tell Luke. He always fed the people he cared about…made sure they had plenty to eat. Funny, he never stopped to think about it before. _When I call, he comes. When something breaks, he fixes it. He wakes me up at the same time every morning, and makes sure I go to bed at the same time every night. And cooks and sets the table just the same way for every single meal. When I'm in real trouble, he always takes the time to talk to me, and set me straight. I just never stopped to think about what that means. _Jess said nothing. In fact, he didn't utter another word all evening, but as he sat down at the table, he looked up at his uncle, with one thought in his mind.

_I love you too, Uncle Luke._


	2. Chapter 2 Green Mohawk & Exploding Head

_**A/N: As some of you already know, this story was originally only supposed to be a one-shot - a vignette that gave a glimpse into Luke and Jess' past, and some insight into how they viewed each other, life, family, etc. I decided to continue the story (it will probably be about 10 chapters long), mostly because of reader response. I was surprised at how many people loved, reviewed and favorited this little snippet, and also that the main objection people had to it was not the one I had expected. Almost universally, they told me that although they loved the story, they couldn't see Luke and Jess being that close at that point in time, or Luke being that involved in Jess' life because of their stiff standoffishness and awkwardness in dealing with one another in "Nick & Nora/Sid & Nancy," because of the tenor of their communication about smoking in that episode, and because of Luke's statements about dealing with children. All of these were things I'd reconciled in my own mind, but I then realized that they would be anything but obvious to a reader. And, the more I thought about explaining them, the more I realized that this story simply wasn't finished…that there was a thread here, which, if I decided to follow it, would lead me through Luke and Jess' entire relationship.**_

_**The plot and dialogue that I've written so far can't make up their mind whether to be comedic, sentimental or sad, so I'll just present it to you as it has been presented to me in my own mind, and see what all of you make of it.**_

_**Hope you enjoy! Feedback, both positive and negative is always welcome.**_

_Chapter 2. Green Mohawk and Exploding Head_

"So, your nephew went home." Rachel lifted the glass of pinot noir, swirling it gently in her hand and watching the light catch its garnet refraction as it shone even in the vaguely green tinged light from the fluorescent bulb that flickered slightly in the old kitchen. She had a habit of making statements that were really questions.

"Yep." Luke lifted the savory smelling lamb chops from the pan and onto his mother's china, then switched them, taking the chipped plate with the smaller chop for himself, putting the larger cut of meat onto the unblemished china. "Really botched that one up," he grumbled, his expression bitter.

"What do you mean, Luke?" she asked, finishing her sip of wine and setting it back on the table, settling back in her seat with a look of concern. Luke set the plates in their respective places, but nervously remained standing. The tenor of his gravely voice matched his stance.

"Catch him smoking out on the back step. Figure he's hiding it from me, sitting out there. So, I explode all over him!" he explained, gesturing rather wildly toward the back yard, and around randomly, indicating his own explosion.

"Kid must be pretty stupid." Luke's head snapped up with an angry scowl. _How dare she call his nephew stupid!_ "Well, if you thought he'd be hiding from you, sitting in front of a glass door," she explained simply, pointing through said door and out into the yard.

_Oh._

"Okay. Now, I feel like even _more_ of an idiot!" Luke bellowed, taking his seat with a huff. Rachel merely replied with a slight inquiring raise of the eyebrows. "I spanked the kid! Hard." The guilt written clearly all over the man's face kept Rachel from opening her mouth, or even changing expression. "I figured he was sneakin' smokes, _startin'_ a habit that'll give him _lung cancer_, start him off on the path to _God knows what,_ just like his mom, and _I've _gotta _stop_ it! I can't _let him_ throw his _life_ away! So, I wailed on him good…" His voice broke on the last word, and he looked away from Rachel, jaw turned to granite, lips trembling slightly, looking out the sliding glass door at the step his nephew had been sitting on that night…the step he'd dragged him up off of…

"I really blew it, Rach," he told her, eyes faltering to the ground.

Her neatly manicured eyebrows raised and lowered once again, taking this in, and she rubbed her lips together, trying to figure out what to say to this. Finally she shrugged her shoulders slightly taking a breath before looking back at Luke with an assessing gaze. "So, it's okay with you if he smokes," she asked levelly.

"_No!_" Luke responded vehemently, sitting forward in his chair with a slightly wild look in his eye. She was baiting him so he would analyze his own responses, but Luke had never been able to understand the way she worked him, no matter how frequently she did it.

"So, you think that spanking is an inappropriate punishment for a boy his age," she deduced with deliberately flawed logic.

"Well, no. I-" Luke was more reluctant on this point, feeling like he was slowly hanging himself, answering her questions. "I think it _could_ have been fine if I hadn't been such a _moron_ and flown off the handle before I knew _what_ was-what he-" He was spluttering now, and his arms waved about haphazardly, to the peril of the dishes and the lovely dinner he'd prepared.

"So, you were angry?" she queried calmly.

"_Yes_, I was angry!" he spat.

"So, you're upset with yourself for punishing him in anger?"

"_Yes!-No!-Yes!_" Luke covered his face with his hands in aggravated confusion. "I'm angry at myself for getting so angry that I didn't _think!_ I didn't _talk!_ I didn't _ask!_ I just hit him…I just assumed that _I knew _what was right, _I knew_ how to handle the situation! Didn't bother to check if he even knew what he was doing was _wrong! -_Tell me, _what_ eight-year-old kid thinks it's _okay_ to smoke-_not_ just that he can _get away_ with it, but actually thinks that _it's all right?"_ His tone had risen to a small, almost high pitch, only to resonate with blasting bass next. "What kind of a _nutcase_ raises her _eight-year-old kid_ to think that smoking is _just fine! MY SISTER, THAT'S WHO!" _Luke's hands covered the entirety of his face once again, and he pulled them down slowly, trying to regain some semblance of calm, steepling his fingers in front of his chin and breathing deeply and raggedly.

Rachel waited while Luke pulled himself together, taking up her knife and fork and starting to cut her meat. She took the first chunk of lamb with her fork and dipped it sparingly into the mint jelly before taking her first bite. Half a second later, her eyes closed, and she moaned in appreciation of the symphony greeting her taste buds. Indicating the lamb chop with her knife, she looked up, clearly impressed. "This is incredible, Luke."

His expression softened slightly at the compliment. He heaved a large breath, expelling it loudly, and a moment later picked up his own knife and fork. After another few bites and several moments of relative silence, Rachel looked up again.

"So, what you're saying is, you regret your haste and lack of communication." Luke loved the way her mildness and calm logic counterbalanced his own blustering bluntness and tendency to raise a ruckus over things. She never mistook his storminess for malice or took his gruff speech personally. The two of them may have argued frequently, but it was always on equal footing and with mutual respect.

Luke nodded at her statement, then shook his head, remembering. "He called me on it." Rachel watched him and waited for him to elaborate as she continued to eat. "Said, 'next time there's something you don't want me to do, tell me.' I've never felt like such a heel." Luke cut into his lamb chop savagely. Despite Luke's self-condemnation, Rachel smiled softly.

"Doesn't sound like an uncooperative kid," she mused.

"He's not, it's just-" He pushed himself away from the table, filled with frustration. "I don't know what to do with him." He threw his hands out at his sides in helplessness as he said this. And during the next portion of his speech, Luke began shifting side to side, and eventually pacing back and forth in front of the table. "I mean, it's all well and good to say that I'll tell him what he's not supposed to do - but does that give him carte blanche to do whatever I haven't mentioned he's not supposed to? After all, I can't punish him for it if he didn't know it was wrong! And, if he didn't know _smoking_ was on the 'you're not supposed to do this' list, how do I know what he knows _is_ or _isn't_? I can see it now: 'But, Uncle Luke, you never _told me_ I wasn't supposed to _BOMB_ the _police station_ or _BURN DOWN_ the _school! How was I supposed to know?_ You mean, I shouldn't _KILL ANYBODY_, Uncle Luke? You're not _THRILLED_ I got a _GREEN MOHAWK, 5,000 PIERCINGS AND 10 TATTOOS?_ _Why is your HEAD EXPLODING, Uncle Luke?_"

Rachel threw back her head and laughed until her eyes were full. "I love you, Luke!" she said, shaking her head, unable to stop laughing. He sat back down with a grunting sigh as if he'd completely depleted his reserves. He watched the beautiful woman in front of him as she slowly regained her composure, and in the end, was just smiling at him, eating her green beans and mashed potatoes. He raised both his palms and his eyebrows toward her, as if to say, _Well?_

"I think you're overcomplicating this," she told him. Luke inclined his head for her to continue. "What Jess needs is a list of rules, so he knows what's expected of him. And, he needs to know what's going to happen when he breaks those rules. You may want to reconsider whether physical punishment is a good idea for him." Luke nodded as he chewed his food, taking in and processing what she was saying. "I'm not trying to say that I know what's best for the kid. I barely know him. That's for you to decide. I'm just saying you need to think about it."

Luke swallowed his current mouthful of food and took a swig of his beer. "I'm kinda lost when it comes to makin' a list, though. How can I possibly know what kinda situations we're gonna be dealing with?"

"You don't," she replied simply. "That's why the rules have to be broad and basic. That way there aren't many loopholes for him to dodge through. Make sure each one is easy to understand. For example, if one of the rules was that he's not allowed to do anything that's against the law, that would rule out smoking, drinking, drugs, theft, vandalism, assault… It would actually rule out everything you mentioned except the hair, piercing and tattoos." Luke lifted the wine bottle, silently asking if she wanted a refill, to which she shook her head, and he set it back down again. "And, don't worry about anticipating every possible scenario. Just talk to the kid. Help him to reason on right and wrong. That way you can add to the list together. And don't give him any consequences unless it's for something that's already on the list, or unless you determine by talking to him that he was fully aware it was something he shouldn't have done." By the time she'd finished saying this, Luke sat slumped with his elbows on the table, one hand resting on the other, his mouth and chin leaning on his hands. After a pause, he glanced up at her with a slow, relieved sigh.

"Thanks, Rach." He let out a heavy, painful sigh. "Wish I knew when he was coming." He scraped the plate with his fork, absently gathering up the remaining mashed potatoes and gravy. Rachel's eyes asked him what he meant. "Everything is so unpredictable with Liz. I never know where they're gonna be living, or when I'll see her or Jess again." He shook his head sadly. "It's no kind of life for a kid."

"He means a lot to you, doesn't he?" she asked as he looked off into space, not seeing the things in front of him. He closed his eyes and drew a sharp breath.

"_You have no idea." She reached out and covered his hand with her own, gentle and warm. Luke glanced down at the slender, tapered fingers, and then up into the soft, serene understanding of her amber-green eyes, and wished that she loved being here in this place with him as much as he loved having her. She made everything make sense…even him and Jess._


	3. Chapter 3  Think Inside the Box, 'Prent

**A/N: I struggled with myself for so long trying to decide whether to write/include this chapter, because I really, really didn't want to include another scene of corporal punishment. But, I kept coming back to the conclusion that the rest of the story didn't QUITE make sense without it. Though I didn't like writing "that part," I was surprised how much fun I ended up having with the rest of the chapter…particularly showing Jess' signature attitude starting to come through…in his head…because the boy's not stupid! **

**Anyhow, hope you like it! Feel free to tell me even if you don't. Reviews make life worth living. ;-)**

_Chapter 3. Think Inside the Box, 'Prenticing for Fagin, I've Got the Horse Right Here, Goodbye Cruel World!_

In the office above William's Hardware was a box. Actually, there were many boxes, but at the moment, we're only concerned with one. Inside it was a sheet of rolled up poster board. At the top of the poster board, in block letters, it said "HOUSE RULES," and below that, was a list of simple imperatives with awkward phrasing and a few misspellings, numbered 1-13. That list was not supposed to be in a box in the office above William's Hardware. In fact, the box was not supposed to be there. None of the boxes were. The boxes, or more accurately, the contents of the boxes, were supposed to stay in the house that Luke had grown up in. Soon, strangers' boxes would occupy that house, and then the contents of those boxes would be unpacked, and take up residence. The mailbox which had read "Danes" for the last forty years, would have somebody else's name on it.

Rachel was supposed to understand that. She was supposed to understand that Luke and his boxes belonged in that house, belonged in that town, and that even if both he and his boxes had to move into the office which had been a second home to William Danes, that Luke needed his boxes, and he needed that office. But, Rachel could not be tied to one place, to boxes, to houses - those ties made her panicky, and suffocated, and petrified. She needed the exhilaration of new people, new places, and new things. Luke was not exhilarated by new things, new people, new places - he was thrown off kilter, and suffocated, and petrified. And so, Rachel was on a plane to Nicaragua, and Luke was in a room full of boxes.

As much as Luke needed his father's office, his boxes, his things…he also needed Rachel. And sitting in the middle of the floor in his parents' old room, surrounded by boxes of memories, he needed her more than ever.

One box in particular, filled that morning from the contents of his father's closet, was making Luke panicky, and suffocated, and petrified. He wanted to exchange it for the box in the office above William's Hardware - the one with the poster board. And he needed Rachel to tell him what he should do.

Jess was supposed to have been there in that house before the box with the poster board was packed and moved - there for a visit, a day-trip, a weekend. Or, he was supposed to come when all the boxes had made their way to the office above William's Hardware, and their contents had taken up residence and settled in their new abode. He was not supposed to be there now.

Liz was not supposed to be in rehab. Of course, it was good that she was in rehab, but she was not supposed to _need_ to be in rehab…_again_. And, she was not supposed to be there indefinitely.

But, maybe more than anything else, Luke was not supposed to be staring into this box, trying to figure out what you were supposed to do when you found out that your nephew had been diligently practicing the magic trick of making people's wallets disappear from their pockets! Jess was not supposed to be the kind of kid who would do that kind of thing. He was supposed to be the kind of kid who read books and didn't talk much, and certainly wasn't perfect, but who on the whole was a good kid. Luke was supposed to have his list, and he was supposed to have Rachel, and Liz wasn't supposed to be in rehab, and Jess wasn't supposed to be there, and he wasn't supposed to be the kind of kid who did this, and Luke was not supposed to be sitting on the floor panicking and suffocating and petrified, remembering just how much it hurt to get hit with the large wooden paddle he'd packed into that stupid box from his father's closet that morning! He wasn't supposed to be sitting there with the memory of Rachel and her level headed, calm, and practical advice duking it out with the memory of his father and his unswerving integrity, soft heart, and iron hand!

After almost twenty minutes, Luke sat there with his head in his hands, the one coherent thought articulated aloud to drown out the hundreds of others that were swimming in his brain: "_I can't do this!_"

Jess sat up in the old bedroom which had once been his mother's, nervously tapping his fingers on the windowsill and beginning to hate Charles Dickens. It wasn't that he could exactly _blame_ a man, dead for more than a hundred-and-twenty years, for his current predicament; but he certainly hadn't helped matters. It definitely wasn't that he looked at Jack Dawkins, or worse, Bill Sikes, as any kind of a role model - but they had taught him a thing or two. It wasn't like he'd be here with Luke forever. And, back with Liz, there wasn't exactly an abundance of that thing called food in anything like constant supply. And, it wasn't like there were a myriad after-school _job opportunities _for a nine-year-old in New York City. He mused, too late, that Luke would have been a lot happier if he'd mowed neighbors' lawns, or walked their dogs while he was there in Stars Hollow. Here, that was possible. In New York, not so much.

He couldn't help but wonder just how badly he would come to regret reading that book in the first place. He looked up at the clock. Twenty minutes. It had been twenty minutes since Luke had sent him up there. After Luke had forced him to give back that particular wallet, he'd dragged him back to the house by the elbow. He could swear his feet barely touched the ground, and he was sure that, for the second time in his life, the second they were in the door, he'd trip over Luke's knee and find himself face-to-face with the linoleum. But, instead, the interrogation began. When Luke got him to choke out the actual number of wallets he'd caused to "disappear" over the course of his stay, he watched Luke's temper rise like mercury does in a thermometer in the cartoons - and he could tell that the order to get to his room _NOW!_ was a safety valve, installed for his benefit - unlike parents in books who sent their kids to their room to "think about what they'd done." Sure he _was_ thinking about what he'd done, and what the consequences to his person were likely to be, but he was certain that the purpose of the trip was so that _Luke_ could think about what he'd done…_without_ killing him.

"_JESS!"_ From the sound of his voice, the mercury hadn't descended as much as he would have hoped in the last twenty minutes.

Jess sighed loudly, preparing to go meet his fate. "Goodbye, cruel world," he muttered, taking one last look around the room before closing the door. He made his way down the short hallway, at to the stairs. Four steps downward, he froze. _Holy shnikeys! You gotta be kiddin' me!_ On the table, beside the waiting Luke was the kind of paddle you saw in movies with boarding schools and principals' offices. On point, he only really remembered such a thing from "_Dead Poets' Society._" And, why was he thinking about movies at a time like this? Well…yeah, that's why. But, why was his breathing suddenly so shallow, and his insides turning to jelly? _It's Luke. It's Luke. He's not going to beat you black and blue. He's not going to-Good grief! Why did I hafta go and read that book? WHY?_

_Get a grip. You've lived through worse. It can't be as bad as a baseball bat. You won't end up in the hospital. No matter how bad it is, it can't be worse than the look on Luke's face._ He looked as if someone had died. _Good job, Mariano. Go ahead and kill the poor guy._ He cringed.

When he made it to the foot of the stairs, he found out that sentence was not to be carried out immediately. Luke was leading him toward the couch. _Mores the pity. I have to sit here and think about it! Ohhh…here comes the talk. Of course._

"Why did you do this?" Luke asked with his _disappointed_ face. _Ah. Questions first. Even better._

He shrugged. "I dunno."

"No, _that_ doesn't cut it! You are going to _tell me_ what this is about! Where did you learn how to pick people's pockets?" he demanded.

Jess shrugged again. "Book." After staring at him for a moment, Luke seemed to find this suddenly funny - not "ha-ha" funny, but a kind of laughing and shaking his head in utter disbelief kind of funny.

"You learned…pick pocketing…from a book?" Jess nodded, wondering if he was going to ask which book. Luke drew a quick breath, "Okay, let's go back to 'why'! Why would you _steal_ people's wallets!" Jess knew that laughing at this point was not going to be in the best interests of his butt. But did he really need to answer this one?

"To get money." He really wasn't trying to be sarcastic. In fact, it took a great deal of effort to say the words softly, and without any "_duh" _in his voice.

Luke nodded. "Beginning to wonder why I'm asking these questions," he said almost under his breath. "So, you learned to pick people's pockets from a book, and you steal people's wallets to get money." Jess nodded again. _Now, I think you're getting it, Uncle Luke. _"Did it ever occur to you that there are other ways to get money?"

_Really, Uncle Luke? I thought that's how everybody got it! No…DO NOT say that! Bad! Stupid idea! Mouth shut. Just nod._

"How do most people _get_ money, Jess?" So, he was still trying to make him talk. _The less I talk, the less trouble I get into. Can't you just lecture me, paddle my butt into next week, and be done with it? Yes, I know: Stealing = Bad. Working = Good. Me = Stupid. Next point. _He sighed sullenly.

"Work."

"That's _right_. And, that is why you will be _working_ for the rest of your visit to pay back _all_ of the money you stole from _everyone!_"

"But-"

"_NO BUTS!" _Luke shouted, "_And,_ you will apologize to each and every person you stole from. In fact, when you have finished paying them back the money that you owe, you will continue working. You will do a solid hour of work for each and every one of them, doing whatever chores they can find for you to do!" Jess doubted that there was enough yard work to be done in all of Stars Hollow to accomplish what Luke was ordering, but he was sure he'd find out one way or another. _And, I was _going_ to say that I haven't spent any of the stinkin' money to begin with, so I can just _hand_ it back to them, but I guess I'll be earning a little pocket cash after all. That'll be nice._

"Because THAT is how you are SUPPOSED to get money. Not by picking pockets! Not by selling drugs! Not by betting on horse races!"

Jess bit his lips together in a frantic attempt to keep from bursting out laughing. _He did NOT just…_He closed his eyes to hide the unabated laughter in his eyes_…but he did! He did! No quoting Damon Runyan! No references to Harry the Horse! No choruses of "I've Got the Horse Right Here"! Mouth shut! And no laughing! _He actually had to visualize the paddle and remind himself of its intended use to regain sobriety, clear his throat, and look his uncle in eye with a serious nod.

"Now, Jess, I will _always_ be here for you. And, God help me, I will help you out of whatever situation life throws your way. But I _DO NOT_ want to be getting calls _to bail you out of jail_, or take _you_ to rehab, or to come identify your body, or to take care of _your_ kids because you have thrown your life away the way your mom has!"

_Okay, that hurt._

"I love you, Jess. And if there is _anything_ I can do about it, you are going to have a _GOOD_ life! A _LONG_ life!" Luke choked up here and changed direction slightly. "Stealing is the first step onto a path that I am _NOT_ going to let you take." With this, he stood up and walked back over to the table. Jess felt his stomach sink.

It was time. Luke wasn't sure what force had impelled him across the room. He didn't feel as if he'd really said everything he'd meant to say, and he wasn't sure how much of it made logical sense, but he knew that standing here meant he had reached the point of no return. They both knew what came next.

"Come here, Jess." Luke watched the little boy stand and drag his feet every inch of the distance from the couch to the kitchen table. "I know you saw this," he said, indicating the paddle. Jess nodded with downcast eyes. "You know what it's for?" he asked to make sure. The boy rolled his eyes. _Okay, that's a 'yes.' And, no, I don't think you're that stupid._ He decided to turn that question into part of the speech so it wouldn't come across as merely insulting the boy's intelligence. "It is to _make sure_ that stealing is a part of your _past_, and that's _ALL_ it is!" The boy said nothing, keeping his eyes on the ground, but his brow crinkled in worry and his mouth twitched around nervously. Luke picked up the paddle. He watched as the boy's eyes flitted toward the thing and then back to the floor, and saw Jess gulp.

"Intimidating? Good. Hopefully, that means we'll only have to do this _once."_ Inside, Luke was terrified, but he was determined to come across as unfailingly firm. To his own ears, that last part had crossed the line from 'firm' to 'mean,' but it was too late to take it back.

"Now, I want you to stand here," he said, indicating a spot on the floor just in front of the kitchen table, "bend forward, and brace yourself on the table." Jess shut his eyes for a moment, and his small body gave a slight shudder, but he followed Luke's orders. The paddle in Luke's hand was shaking ten times worse than the shudder he saw go through the little boy, for despite his conscious decision to be firm, his nerves were _not_ cooperating.

Looking at his small nephew standing there before him, braced for a blow, clearly scared out of his wits, Luke had to wonder how on earth his father had ever done this! He was anything but hard-hearted. It had to have killed him._ But, he still did it._ This thought steadied Luke in his course of action, and after a quick, determined sigh, he pulled back his arm, taking aim.

The next moment went by in an extraordinarily odd flash. The paddle came down with a loud _crack_, which seemed to occupy the same space in time as Jess' strangled yelp, and Luke jumped back about a startled foot as Jess flipped around and leapt onto the table, where he sat, holding onto its edge, white-knuckled and with eyes about twice their normal size. He breathed rapidly with an expression that clearly showed he had no idea how he came to be sitting on the table.

"I didn't mean to do that," Jess said rapidly, his voice high pitched. "It did itself-like a reflex," he explained. Luke nodded. "Prob'ly my butt's natural self-preservation instinct!" After that, for a few moments Jess just sat and Luke just stood. Luke took a step forward.

"We're not done here," he told Jess.

"I know." His eyes darted back and forth, and Luke could practically see him calculating how to prevent a recurrence of the leap onto the table, and how on earth to get down and actually present himself _again_ for _that! _Quicker than Luke would've imagined such resolve could be made, Jess clambered down again and reassumed his previous position, a look of determination in his large brown eyes. Luke felt himself faltering. It was too much! It was too harsh! If the boy couldn't even take one-

"I thought you said we weren't done," Jess interrupted his thoughts, his head swiveling around to look at his uncle.

"We're not," Luke replied, but for all intents and purposes, just kept standing there.

"So…what are you waiting for?"

"I…" Luke didn't know how to finish the sentence. He was rethinking this whole thing. Maybe he should've-

"Look, you can argue with yourself later about whether this is a bad idea. Right now, _I'm dying here,_ can we _please_ just get this over with!" he plead urgently. Luke inclined his head and raised his eyebrows, and gave a bit of a snort. _Put you out of your misery. O-kay… _Luke nodded and the boy turned forward again, closed his eyes and breathed a short intense sigh.

Luke settled his shoulders and got a firmer grip on the paddle. He gave Jess ten swats in total. It was something of an incredible feat that either of them made it through the ordeal. Luke rested his left hand on the boy's back, which seemed to be enough to prevent another flying leap. Each crack made Jess cry out, but, to Luke's astonishment, he saw when he was finished that the boy's eyes were dry. He stood there, eyes clamped shut, teeth gritted, still drawing in and releasing rapid, whistling breaths through them. He waited until the boy's breathing returned to something resembling normal.

"I know how much it hurts," he told him. "I remember it like it was yesterday. That's _why_ I did this. I want you to _remember_ this."

Jess snapped his head up and shot Luke a look that said, _You what! _

Luke nodded. "This is what my dad used…when I was _REALLY_ out of line. And, you better believe, whatever I'd done to earn it, was something I _NEVER_ did again! I'm hoping that part still works." By the look on the kid's face, he had a pretty good idea it did. "But I _will_ be checking up on you. And if Lizzie ever tells me you've been stealing again, I will not _hesitate_ to drive all the way to New York _with _this paddle. Is that clear?" Jess nodded silently. Luke finally allowed himself to breathe. As he did, he seemed to shrink…and melt. It was done.

He put a hand on Jess' shoulder, and the boy looked up, hurting and wary. Luke's tone was gentle and a little broken. "Are you okay?" He nodded again. "Are you sure?" Another nod.

"Fine," he replied, voice still small and a bit hitched in unnatural breathing. "I'm fine." Luke was unconvinced. "I'm okay, Luke," he reiterated, straightening up, regaining his pluck and his good humor. "No more swiping. No more pilfering. No more _absconding_. No more 'borrowing.'" His lips twitched. "No more 'prenticing for Fagin. I'm all good, 'kay?"

Luke nodded, his eyebrows showing that he was trying to work out the "'prenticing" comment…unsuccessfully. He was also trying to recall when Jess had stopped talking like a child. He remembered that he'd sounded like a child once…or, at least, more like a child. But, at nine years old, he could read and interpret the apprehension in an adult's face, and spout a whole thesaurus entry to emphasize his repentance. Nine years old. Luke looked down at the floor with a bit of a dry smile. He was the kind of kid who read books and didn't talk much, and certainly wasn't perfect, but who on the whole was a good kid.

Luke smiled at Jess. "Okay," he said, and pulled the boy into an awkward one armed hug. Beneath Luke's shoulder, Jess' eyes opened wide. The hug was even more of a surprise than the three word sentence that jumped out at him in the middle of his uncle's lecture. "Go get a book…and your coat."

"Huh?"

"Let's get out of here - get somethin' to eat." Jess bit back a laugh and headed for the stairs. Luke was on a roll. _'L'-word, hug, AND realizing that I wouldn't do a ridiculous thing like go out to a restaurant without bringing a book! If it weren't for that whole sending my butt into orbit thing, I'd think the guy'd gone soft!_

Jess rifled through the books in his bag, picking one up and quickly putting it back. Yeah - _Robin Hood was probably a bad choice! _


	4. Chapter 4 Of Mice and Answering Machines

_**A/N: In case it isn't obvious, this chapter is set just after the end of "Nick & Nora/Sid & Nancy." Part of me is sad to leave the time-frame of 8 - 9-year-old Jess, and trade him in for the surly teenager, but this is supposed to be a short story. *sigh* And, in a way, it's writing itself all too quickly for my taste. In another, it's great to have the chapters fly by so quickly.**_

_**For some reason, this one didn't seem to want to be finished, and I kept adding on more at the end. I'm still not sure that it feels complete…but I think that's because the characters don't find resolution…aren't supposed to yet. But it makes it hard to stop writing. Ah, well. I hope you like it, even with the weak ending.**_

_**I'm always in a panic until the reviews start coming, thinking that I've written something truly horrific that never should have seen the light of day. So, please put me out of my misery. Tell me how awful it is, so I can stop holding out false hope! ;-)**_

_Chapter 4: Of Mice and Answering Machines_

Luke had always had the best of intentions. But what was it they always said about good intentions…and mice? It had never made much sense to Luke, but somehow it fit the situation now. He'd always tried to be there for the kid, be a kind of father-figure he never seemed to have, no matter how many men Liz tried to corral for the job. Granted, Luke wouldn't have said it like that…not out loud, even in his own head. He just tried to help out, but somehow over the last few years, neither Liz or the kid ever seemed to let him. He figured that must be his own fault. There had been a time when his nephew had sought him out, even asked to come stay with him, though he didn't know why. When he came, he rarely said more than a few random sentences the whole time he was there. And, he knew he was far more strict with the boy than anyone was with him at home. Still, there was a time he'd wanted to come, and, in his own strange way, seemed to enjoy his time there. But, somehow, during the last two visits, things had gone terribly wrong. Yes, he'd been tougher on the boy than he had been before…both times, but he'd had good reason to be. Then again, maybe Rachel had been right. Maybe he should've tried a different tack. Maybe that was why Jess had pulled away from him. Maybe that was why, even though this time he was there to stay, he was there against his will…and wasted no opportunity to show it.

Luke tried to pretend his coldness didn't sting, and that his mocking attitude didn't reek of rebellion, just like his clothes reeked of the infernal cigarettes he'd hoped he cured the kid of nine years before. Anyone who didn't know their history would have thought the two were complete strangers, and out of everything, that stung the most. Maybe that was why Lorelai's know-it-all attitude and well-meaning parenting advice had hit a nerve. Maybe that was why he lost it when the kid did the one thing that had gotten him in the most trouble years ago, denied it, and then snapped in Luke's face about butting into his life so much. Maybe that was the reason he couldn't admit, till the kid was cooling his heels in Anderson's lake, that he had absolutely no clue what he was doing - that he had even less of an idea how to deal with a rebellious teen-aged Jess than he'd had dealing with his jam-handed, toddler counterpart.

Sure, he'd gotten a grip on his sanity after that, ironically, thanks to Lorelai. And, sure, he'd laid down the law, and almost made it look like he knew what he was doing. It was all well and good to come home after everything that had happened that day and start throwing self-help books and nicotine patches at the kid, barking orders like a drill sergeant, but it didn't stop him from grabbing a book and his coat, and storming out. And it didn't keep him from staying out, who knows where, till all hours of the night, leaving Luke to wonder and worry and stew. How much trouble could he get into? This was Stars Hollow. I mean, really? What could he do? Luke tried not to ponder that question too deeply…or wonder how many calls he'd get in the morning, demanding the kid's immediate execution. He should have instituted a curfew…for all the good it would do. Rules like that only work when you have a teenager's respect. And obviously, he'd lost Jess' respect a long time ago.

Or had he? He didn't know how to explain it, but there was a look on the kid's face. He'd caught it just before Jess stood up to leave. It was something in the eyes…some glimpse of…of what? _The kid he used to be._ The thought flashed across Luke's mind, and he knew in an instant, it was right. Those eyes…those sorrowful, childlike, _I know I messed up, Uncle Luke _eyes. The eyes had almost spoken those words - for a split second. It was as if he'd actually reached a small part of him, half-a-second before the walls went back up. Maybe that was why he had to leave. Maybe Jess couldn't let himself be reached.

_Why not? Why does he have walls to shut me out? Why does he…hate me so much?_

The thought knocked the wind out of him, just like it always did. Jess had hated him for a long time, but when he actually let himself think the words, it never hurt any less. Luke sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the mattress on the floor, the cushion, the self-help books, the Chinese herbs, the patch, the hypnosis tapes… and then he tried not to look at anything at all. Or think anything at all. Thinking was overrated.

It was then that Jess came back, opening the door softly as if not to wake him. It took only a split second for him to realize that the lights were on, and his uncle was awake, and his expression shifted from softly cautious, to sour, to deliberately indifferent. He avoided Luke's gaze, shoving the anti-smoking paraphernalia off his mattress in one motion, and went to lie down. Luke tipped his head, in a _really?_ look. Did the boy think that by pretending to go to bed, fully clothed, he could avoid conversation? Did he think his uncle would just follow suit, and the two of them would be uncomfortably snoring in no time?

"Where have you been, Jess?" Jess sat up again, putting his hands down on the mattress with a _thump_. The glare this question earned Luke was full of a brooding irritation.

"Out," he repeated the uninformative syllable.

"It's after two o'clock in the morning, Jess!"

The boy consulted his watch. "Yep."

Luke got up from the bed and crouched down beside Jess, looking him in the eye. "You've been out alone, on the street, until after two in the morning! Where have you been, Jess? _I've been worried sick!" _

"_Please!"_ he uttered the sarcastic dismissal with a dramatic roll of the eyes, turning away and standing up, since it seemed to be the only way to avoid the eye-contact Luke was so determined to make with him.

"Jess-"

The kid whirled on him, cutting him off with a crackling vehemence. "Look! I'm used to the streets of New York - _at night. _And, don't pull the 'devoted uncle,' '_I care so much about you_' routine! I saw through that _years_ ago!" he sneered viperously. Both the words and the tone made Luke draw back, stunned. He leaned forward, deepening his gaze, and speaking softly.

"Jess, _what are you talking about?_ I have -_always- cared about you_! I have always been there for you when you needed me!"

"Oh, that's _rich,_" Jess scoffed, his words barbed. "I've barely seen you in _eight years_, Luke! _EIGHT. YEARS._ Oh, yeah, that's filial loyalty right there!"

"And it's supposed to be _my_ fault that you avoided me like the plague or flatly refused to speak to me every time I came to see you?"

"Oh, what? All _two times? _Or was it three?" Jess shot back accusingly.

"I came-when I could! When I knew _where you lived,_ for one thing. And when I did, neither you or your mom acted like you wanted me to be there! Look, I get that you were mad at me for what happened the last time you came to visit. I dunno, maybe you were even scared that was why I was coming to see you. I only did what I thought was best for you, but obviously it made you mad - _so mad _that you _still_ haven't let it go."

Jess' eyes snapped to Luke's face, glaring, before resting on the ground as he shook his head. His sarcasm increased tenfold. "Ohyeah, _that's_ why I was upset." The fact that Luke's expression was nothing but a perplexed scowl seemed to fuel the fire raging inside Jess. "_Why _did you _stop_ _returning_ my _phone calls_, Luke? _Why?" _he demanded, fiercely.

"What?"

"I called _over and over_, and you never picked up the phone! I even left messages on your stupid machine, left our new number with your bimbo girlfriend, but you _never_ called me back! I _needed_ you, Luke!" He choked on the last words, and his eyes shot to the floor again, clearly not having meant to reveal that "weakness."

"When? When did you call? What are you _talking _about?"

"Forget about it. Just forget about it, all right! It was a long time ago, and for _whatever reason, _you obviously couldn't be _bothered _with me anymore. The only reason I'm here now is 'cause you couldn't get out of it, right? Lizzie wore you down, like she always does, and now you're stuck with me."

"I've _never_ in all these years, felt like I got _stuck_ with you, Jess! I have _always_ returned your phone calls! If you wanted my help, all you _ever_ had to do was ask!"

Jess looked around the apartment, as if to see whether time and space had shifted without his knowledge. "Have I just been put in some kind of _alternate reality_, or are you _just - plain - lying?_" Luke stared at him uncomprehendingly. "After I came here the last time, you know, when all your stuff was in boxes 'cause you were selling the house, and I stayed for like a month, y'know _that _last time - you never answered the phone or _called me back again! Not ever!_"

Luke squinted, holding his palms upward in shrugging confusion. "I only got two messages from you! When I called back, _your numbered had changed!_ I never got any 'messages from girlfriends.' When I finally _got _your number, I _called every day! _You were never home! I asked Liz how you were doin', and she said 'fine.' I'd tell Liz to tell you I called when you got home from school, or wherever you were, but I figured you must not want to talk to me after all, because you didn't call back. The_ only _time I didn't answer the phone was in the middle of the night, 'cause that's when I sleep. I started turning the ringer off at night and turning on the answering machine when I opened the diner, 'cause I have early deliveries, and I open first thing in the morning, so I didn't want the phone botherin' me. I checked the messages every morning. I would _never_ ignore a call from you!" Midway through this speech, Jess had bit his lip, nodding shallowly.

"Liz." It was all he said. It was all he needed to say.

"Over the years, I called _lots of times. _I asked your mom if you could come see me. She always had some reason it wouldn't work out _just then_. If she didn't give you my messages, you can't hold that against me." Luke had a point there.

Jess just laughed quietly and ruefully. "Yeah…should'a figured." He nodded again. "Didn't know you turned your phone off at night. Kinda wish you hadn't but…" he trailed off, shrugging. "The one time somebody actually picked up the phone, it was some girlfriend that answered, one I hadn't met. She didn't give you the phone - just chewed me out for calling in the middle of the night. I gave her the number. I told her it was important. Guess that didn't mean much."

"I never _got _the message, Jess. I _would_ have called…and I would've _kept_ calling. If she'd said it was important, if I couldn't get through, I would've hopped in my truck and kept driving until I _found_ you!" Luke's tone was earnest. The boy _had _to believe him! Jess nodded, tight-lipped, in mute acceptance, and sore regret that life played such cruel tricks. "Why were you calling in the middle of the night? And what was so important?" Luke's voice held a tinge of concern.

Jess looked at the floor uncomfortably, blinking faster than before. "Wanted you to come get me."

"Why did you want me to come get you in the middle of the night?"

"Doesn't matter now," he muttered quickly.

"Jess. Why would you need me to come get you in the middle of the night? What was going on?" Luke asked, more urgently this time.

"I _said, It. Doesn't. Matter. Now." _He looked Luke straight in the eye. "So, drop it."

Luke looked at him for a long moment, though Jess had dropped his eyes and was nervously looking for something to occupy his hands.

"No."

"What?"

"No, I won't drop it." Jess glared at him, unable to believe this man. "I care about you. So, I won't drop it. What was going down that night? Why did you need to get away?" If he'd been younger, or they were at a level of comfort with one another that would have permitted it, Luke would have taken him by the shoulders, so he wouldn't try to turn away and avoid the subject. As it was, Jess looked as if he were debating storming out the door again, shifting, and shuffling, and avoiding eye contact, face contorted in uneasiness and anger.

"Just… _Man! You aren't gonna leave this alone!"_

"No, I'm _not!" _Luke insisted, seeing the boy cringing at his own thoughts and suddenly desperate to know what had happened, not just that night, but…all the nights…

"_It was…crud…just…_it was just garbage with Liz, all right? Garbage with Liz, and with…one of her stupid, jerk boyfriends…and drugs…and _garbage, just lots of garbage and a really cruddy night…and cops and…social services showed up…and I just didn't want…_" He was clearly losing control of his emotions and humiliated by doing so. "Look, it doesn't matter now! _Can't you understand that?_ It was a _long time ago_, and I just…wanna forget it ever happened, all right?" He ended in a whisper, and Luke wanted nothing more than to gather the boy up into his arms and try to somehow make up for eight years…seventeen years of neglect and horror stories that he couldn't even bring himself to talk about. Sure, he'd known things had gotten bad. With Liz, things had always gotten bad. It just never seemed like there was much of anything he could do about it, other than what he did. But somehow…somehow, he should've protected Jess better. He should have gotten him out of there. To this day, he still didn't know how.

At least the kid was there now. At least…

"I'm sorry, Jess." It seemed so inadequate. Too little, too late. "I wish…"

Jess nodded at what he couldn't say. They both wished.

"S'ok," he assured, lamely. "I'm just…glad to know you don't hate me." The words sank into Luke's gut. At age ten or eleven, Jess thought he'd been given up on. That was the reason for the cold shoulder. That was the reason for the mocking attitude and the resentment. That was why Jess had hated him for the last… He stopped and considered the thought. _Glad to know you don't hate me._ That's what he'd said. Maybe it went both ways. Maybe Jess hadn't hated him after all.

"I could never hate you, Jess." The emotion in Luke's eyes was obviously too much for the kid, because his eyes sought an escape route, and his head dodged downward.

"It's late," he muttered. "Let's go to bed." Luke nodded. His hand reached out involuntarily to put a hand on Jess' shoulder, but stopped short as it met the boy's darting gaze. He drew his hand back quickly and sighed. Too much, too soon.

He knew he had answers. There were reasons for the dark, coldness that had stretched between them all these years. Stupid misunderstandings. It would take time to fix them. But, he _would_ fix them. There had to be a place that existed between 'too much, too soon' and 'too little, too late.' And Luke Danes would find it! He had to!

He and Jess got ready for bed, turned out the light, both lay there staring up at the ceiling. It was blue-green in the faint glow from the streetlight outside the window. The silence was unoppressive to the two men used to living in silence. It was quiet enough that Luke could hear Jess sigh.

"Jess…I'm glad you're here," he spoke softly into the darkness. He heard a soft _hm of a laugh. He knew it was the only reply he would get. But, it was better than nothing. "Good night." That one was safer…something the boy could return._

"'_Night."_


	5. Chapter 5 Whatever You Say, Uncle Luke

_**A/N: Okay, I know I haven't updated this in FOREVER AND A DAY, and I deeply apologize for that. I had several epiphanies about Jess' life after the last chapter I posted, and they turned the timeline, etc. of 'House Rules' into a bit of a Gordian Knot in my head, making it extraordinarily difficult to figure out how to handle certain parts of this story. I still need to go back (probably) and write a chapter (or possible a few) in between Chapters 3 and 4, but their content is still ever-changing. So…I've decided to handle this a little like I've been writing 'EverFixed Mark'-i.e. not in chronological order. Hopefully it will still make sense, and hopefully that will enable me to actually move forward. Time will tell. For now, we're still with 17-year-old Jess, during the summer between Seasons 2 and 3.**_

_**For those of you who have stuck with me all this time: THANK YOU! For those of you who've started reading this story/my stories now: THANK YOU! Would love to hear what all of you think. :-)**_

_Chapter 5 - Whatever You Say, Uncle Luke_

A hunched, darkened silhouette could be seen walking quickly along the black, damp asphalt. A sturdy old green truck drove toward the silhouette. It was 4:12 a.m.

Jess shot wary glances down driveways and side-streets. It was an entirely unnecessary precaution, but old habits stick with you. He shivered. It may have been summer, but the pre-dawn air had chilly breezes, and his temperature had already dropped considerably from lying exposed to the elements for an unknown number of hours. Aside from that, the time he'd spent back in New York had considerably lessened the meat on his bones and that made the cold come easier. Besides, it was easier to think about what might lurk in the darkness of the safe, small-town streets, and think about the frigidness that was keeping his skin in goose bumps than it was to think about the fact that he'd promised Luke things would be different this time - and he couldn't come up with a single excuse, a single avoidance tactic that would still make it seem like things were different, like he was the good kid, like Luke hadn't been crazy to take him back after all. The plain and honest truth was, nothing happened. Nothing that was his fault anyway. But it had been his experience in life that usually didn't matter much. He mentally reviewed the conversation before he left for some kind of loophole. It had been general enough.

"_I'm going."_

"_Where?"_

"_Out."_

"_For what?"_

"_To do stuff."_

"_With who?"_

"_People. What do you care?"_

"_Jess!"_

"_I'm going out. Don't wait up."_

"_You've got the early shift tomorrow…Jess!"_

"_Relax. I won't be that late."_

He shot a glance at his wristwatch as he walked and grimaced, shifting his shoulders. Only thing left was to cling to a vain hope that Luke actually _hadn't_ waited up, and was presently snoring loudly. He could sneak in, make sure he woke in time for his shift, and maybe… He saw the truck. _No such luck._

Though he tried to keep his gaze elsewhere, in his peripheral vision, he saw the expression behind the windshield go from panic, to relief, to snarling. He sighed heavily.

After the brakes squeaked a touch as Luke pulled up beside him, the door swung open with force, narrowly missing a connection with his shoulder, and the "_Get in!_" was made of cold, hard iron. That tone from any other man on the planet would have made Jess bolt. He resisted the urge and climbed awkwardly into the passenger's seat without making eye contact. He quickly attended to his seatbelt, avoiding any additional causes for irritation. He could ill afford them.

"_Where have you been?!_" More than anything, he wanted to provide some sort of _everything's okay_ explanation. But, none came to mind. In the second-and-a-half pause, Luke's face contorted in disgust and indignation. "_You've been DRINKING!" _Jess' eyes went wide for a second, before he realized the cause of Luke's logical but mistaken conclusion. "Jess, _LOOK AT ME!" _He tried to turn his face in the requested direction. His eyes wouldn't follow. "_What in the name of-Jess!"_ Luke flicked the dome light on. "_Jess, you're bleeding!-or at least you were."_ There was dried blood smeared across his face from his nose to about the location of his ear and partway down his neck. Jess flicked his face away, revealing the bruises he sported on the other side. "_Did you get into a FIGHT? Jess, WHERE have you BEEN?"_

"Can we do this back at the diner?" Jess requested, voice quiet, eyes on the floor about a foot from the stick shift. There was only about a block and a half between the truck and the diner. It seemed like a reasonable thing to ask. Luke's shoulders settled with a heated sigh through his nostrils. Instead of replying, he reached up and shut off the dome light, then put the truck into gear, with abrupt, stilted movements. Out of the corner of his eye Jess saw Luke swallow, saw the muscles of his face tighten into steel bands. He wondered how long Luke had been looking for him. He wondered if he had a breath of a prayer of staying under Luke's roof after this. _Shouldn't have gone to that stupid party in the first place. _He folded his hands in his lap causing his shoulders to stoop forward uneasily.

The truck clunked into first gear and skraaaaked the parking break in the space behind the diner. The heavy doors rumbled open and banged shut, each in their turn. Jess felt himself steered in through the back entrance by the back of his collar and one shoulder. His jaw tightened at the affront, though it was standard, _we're going to talk about this and we're going to talk about this right-now-_demeanor for Luke, particularly where his nephew was concerned. He found himself roughly seated on wooden crates in the storage room. Luke disappeared momentarily, rattling around in the kitchen for no reason that Jess could think of…crashing, banging, running water, shuffling, more crashing…only to emerge with a bowl half full of water and white rags in his left hand, a flashlight in his right. He handed the flashlight to a puzzled Jess.

"Hold this," he instructed. Jess looked from his uncle to the flashlight with one eyebrow raised. Luke set the bowl down on one of the crates next to Jess, began wringing out one of the rags, and then brought it to Jess' face. He flinched involuntarily, but acquiesced with reluctance as Luke took hold of his chin and began to scrub the dried blood from his face and neck. The expression on Luke's face as he went about the task at hand vividly recalled a summer afternoon back when he was a kid. He'd been fooling around on an old skateboard of Luke's he found in the garage, and in one exuberant move, had managed to send the skateboard flying, shred the leg of his jeans and effectively scrape most of the skin off his right shin and forearm. Back then, it had been cotton swabs and hydrogen peroxide along with massive band-aids, and he'd been shuddering and shaking, teeth chattering from the shock of the fall. But, the look on Luke's face was the same.

Jess grimaced and shifted uncomfortably, unused to this sort of attention.

"Would you hold still!" Luke groused, taking hold of his chin again, this time turning his face and scrubbing down his neck to where the blood stained the collar of his shirt. As Luke reached the collar, Jess squirmed away again, and Luke dropped him a glare. Jess tried to hold still.

When the blood had been washed away and the rags and water in the bowl had turned a sickly pink, Luke laid them aside and took the flashlight from Jess. He turned it on and promptly shone it in Jess' face, which made the boy clamp his eyes abruptly shut and flinch away from its beam.

"Watch where you point that thing!" he grumbled. He could swear Luke went over every millimeter of his face and neck, turning his head roughly this way and that, causing Jess to roll his eyes behind the lids. When this was done, Luke reached down, thick, rough fingers grasping the hem of Jess' t-shirt in an attempt to pull it off. Jess reacted in a lightning quick motion, slamming his arms down, shoving Luke's away and holding the shirt tightly to his waist, objecting loudly.

"I _have to see if-_" Luke began insistently, but Jess cut him off, trying to stand up.

"It was just the face, all right! No need to do a _strip search!_ I promise, I'm okay everywhere else!" His eyes flashed and he gestured toward his face and torso as he spoke.

Luke settled Jess once more on the crates, gripping his shoulders and giving him one more once over, to be satisfied in his own mind that the boy was all right. He ended with a definitive nod and a squeeze to the shoulders.

Luke leaned back against a wall of coffee beans, arms crossed over his chest.

"_Talk!"_ he barked the command. Jess shifted uncomfortably and his eyes wandered along the jars of mustard and large tubs of peanut butter as his teeth scraped along his lower lip.

"In here?" he finally choked out, still marginally avoiding Luke's gaze.

Luke's head tipped to one side and his eyebrows raised along with the strained cadence of his voice. "_You _pick the room, but _start talking!_"

Jess' shoulders twitched once more beneath the weight of strange truths this night had wrought. His blinking eyes sought out the front room, but he wasn't eager to get bawled out with a nice spotlight and street view. Climbing the stairs to turn around and get lectured didn't strongly appeal either. So, on second thought, he thought the uncomfortable crates were fine after all. A rough sigh escaped his lungs through his nostrils. It felt the same at seventeen as it had at nine, and seven…and five, for that matter. Force words out so they can hang you with them. Jess had never been much for the spoken word. Of anyone on the planet, Luke should understand that. But, yeah…understanding other things took precedence. He got that. He did. Didn't make it any easier, though.

"_Jess!_" His eyes snapped up, the words that had been nearly ready to come out of his mouth now lodged firmly at the back of his throat. "In about forty-five minutes, there will be an alarm going off upstairs. Do you know what that alarm means?" Jess head sunk in frustration. There was no need to talk to him like an imbecile. "It means that it's time to get up and get dressed and come down and start opening up the diner!" Jess nodded rhythmically, lips bitten together. "Do you know what I've been doing all night, Jess?"

"Foosball?" the sarcastic reply came before the filter engaged, and it earned a _thwack_ upside the head. His jaws clenched again.

"I've searched every inch of the school grounds and the cemetery, checked the bridge a minimum of 5 times, woken up almost every resident of our _fair city_, driven down every street multiple times, drove over to Woodbridge, checked back at the diner several times, spoken to the local authorities. They were about to help me start filing a report. I was coming back here to the apartment to see if I could find any pictures of you or anything-you know, in case somebody in town _doesn't_ know what you look like. And _WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?_" At the last, Luke put a hand on the wall above Jess' shoulder, leaning in as if shouting in close proximity would get through to the teenager more effectively.

"…was a party," Jess mumbled almost too softly to be heard. Luke pushed off the wall and stood there, grizzled jaw square and hard. His eyes bored into Jess in disbelief, and a pained bark of a laugh escaped his lips. He adjusted his shirtsleeves and straightened his shoulders.

"A party," he repeated, quieter, but with Luke, quiet wasn't reassuring. Blustering was just standard. Quiet was… Quiet wasn't good. His breaths got shallower and he didn't talk for several long seconds, though his jaw was working. "A party where you stumble home at almost five in the morning, reeking of beer after a fistfight…" He shook his head at the floor and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Boy, who does _that_ sound like? Now, let me see…huh…reminds me of somebody I used to… Oh yeah! _THAT'S right…your MOM! You WANNA throw your life away, Jess? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?"_

"I _wasn't_ drinking!" he corrected, voice a low growl.

"Oh, no, that's _rose petals_ I smell! Or, wait, let me guess - somebody dumped it over your head! Yeah, _that, _must be it! And, I bet you didn't get into a fight either-"

"_No_, I _didn't!_" Jess interjected, voice strong and defensive now.

"-you must've fallen down the stairs…or walked into a doorjamb, right?! Jess, I swear to God, I've got half a mind to go dig up that old paddle and _blister_ your butt! And, believe me, seventeen or not, _I'd do it_, if I thought it would do any good!" Luke's voice was gravel through gritted teeth at the end, almost shaking.

Jess' brow crinkled and his head turned downward, Luke's words having hit their target, and then some. His voice was quiet - humbled, but bitter. "If it'll make you feel better, go right ahead…" It had been almost two years since somebody had used him as a punching bag. It wasn't fair to equate Luke's suggestion to that, but he also couldn't help the feeling.

Once again, Luke stared. His eyes were pained, and he spoke slowly. His voice took on a pleading quality. "I don't _punish_ you…to make _me_ feel better, Jess."

Jess looked unseeing through the bags of coffee beans, his voice choked. "No?" His eyebrows held the expression of afflicted inquiry. "Well, then, _leave _me alone, 'cause there's no other reason," he insisted, stilted, frozen. A second later, he stood, lithe body turning quickly as if to walk away, but as Luke caught his shoulder and pinned him back into the position he'd held before, sitting on the crates, his eyes closed, shutting the image of his uncle out.

"Jess… Tell me…what happened," Luke insisted.

Jess' lips tightened in anger and frustration. He laughed voicelessly, eyes opening with raised eyebrows as he addressed the concrete floor, tone soft and lightly sarcastic. "You don't _believe_ me, so why should I talk?"

"Give me a reasonable explanation, and I might start believing you."

Jess sighed heavily. "I was _at_ a party. Some guy punched me out and _shoved_ me into the drink table, which _did_ - _pour it all over me._ You can believe me or not believe me - doesn't change a thing."

"Why did he punch you?"

"Because he thought I was hitting on his _girl_friend."

"Were you?"

"Maybe." He paused. "No… Sort of. More like she was hitting on me. And I _didn't_ know _her_. And I _didn't_ know _him._ And, if I had known it was some kind of _lover's quarrel_, I would have stayed out of it." Luke's eyebrows raised. "Look, I'm _sorry_ I stayed out so late, all right? I'm sorry you practically turned the county upside down and lost a night of sleep." Luke's head dropped, though his jaw didn't drop clear to the floor, it was clear that an apology was the last thing he expected.

"Then _why_ did you stay out all night?"

"Give me a _break_, Luke! I headed home as soon as I came to." He honestly didn't know what more could be expected.

"You were _unconscious?!_" Luke was flabbergasted.

"Last I checked, that's what the term 'punched me out' implies," Jess' mild sarcasm returned.

"For _HOW LONG?_"

"Kinda hard to tell when you're - I dunno - _unconscious!_" Jess emphasized, wide-eyed.

Luke stopped dead still for about three seconds. Then he stepped forward, pulling Jess to his feet and steering him back the way they'd come. "All right, that's it. Let's go."

"Go _where?_" Jess knew that his uncle was a man of action, and he hardly had room to complain that the guy didn't talk much, but he wished at this moment that explanations were more forthcoming and preceded such actions instead of following them, or not coming at all. And that moment taught him just a bit why everybody got so frustrated with _him._

"The hospital," Luke answered abruptly, continuing to march his nephew toward the truck, the storeroom door slowing him down very little.

"That's _ridiculous!_"

"That's what you do when your kid prob'ly has a _concussion._" He already had Jess back outside and halfway to the truck.

"So they can charge you _one hundred_ to _five hundred dollars_ after we sit there for four hours, to tell you that I might have a concussion, and that you should take me home and watch me and don't let me go to sleep for a few hours, and come back if I start vomiting, or pass out or anything." Luke came to an abrupt halt. "So, we go back inside. I start the morning shift, so I don't go to sleep for a few hours. You watch me. And you bring me to the hospital if I start vomiting, or pass out our anything." Luke hated to admit the kid was right. He hated to make him work if he might be hurt. But, he was right that he probably _would_ fall asleep if he didn't keep active. He sighed deeply, finally releasing the boy from his grip.

"We'll both open up."

"_Thank you!_"

"Cut the smart aleck," Luke ordered mildly. Jess rolled his eyes, looking away. "You'll take a fifteen minute break every hour, sitting at the counter where I can watch you." Jess lifted his eyes skyward and sighed. "And, from now on, when I _ask you_ where you're going, you _tell me._"

Jess gave him a prolonged stare that asked, 'are you _serious?_'

"Don't _push it!" _Luke warned him, sticking an index finger toward Jess' face. Jess sighed again and turned to walk back into the diner.

"Whatever you say, Uncle Luke." His voice faded as he walked away.

"And you are _not_ going anywhere near the fryer!" Luke followed him inside.

"Whatever you say, Uncle Luke."

"Or the sink," he continued, becoming less and less reasonable and more and more paranoid the more steps they took.

"Whatever you say, Uncle Luke." They were now in the main part of the diner, Jess turning to get an order pad and unlock the register.

"Or pouring hot coffee."

"Cold coffee only. Got it." Jess nodded, sticking a pencil behind his ear.

"You know what I-" Luke began, objecting.

"Whatever you s-"

"Will you _stop…saying that!"_

Jess bit back a smirk. "Whatever you say, Uncle Luke." Luke stepped forward, nearly smacking him upside the head before he clearly remembered the possible concussion and pulled back guiltily, clearing his throat and ducking back into the kitchen to start prepping eggs. Jess laughed and shook his head as he began to fill the coffee machine. It was perking nicely when he heard his uncle's voice muted from the kitchen, grumbling at the stove to get it to cooperate. Luke would always be Luke. Jess walked over to unlock the door and turn over the 'closed' sign. As the door fell closed again on its own, jingling the bell as it did so, Jess looked down at the floor smiling softly. Just then the smile vanished and Jess looked up because Luke emerged from the kitchen with a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. He set it on the counter.

"Eat," he ordered abruptly and disappeared into the kitchen again. Jess' eyes smiled, and the corners of his mouth joined in very subtly. It would take a goodly amount of torture for him to admit it, but he was awfully glad Luke would always be Luke.

Luke poked his head back out of the kitchen, "Oh, and take a shower and change your clothes before you scare the customers!"

**A/N: So…thoughts? Should I have stopped while I was behind? Miss little boy!Jess (as much as I do)? IC? OOC? Is it clear what incident preceded this night/morning? Any little observations you feel like sharing?**


	6. Chapter 6 Grandmother Luke

_**A/N: I realize this is teasingly short, particularly as I keep you all waiting a ridiculously long time. I hope there's some little morsel of this that you enjoy, though. As you'll see, we're back near the beginning of Season 2.**_

_Chapter 6 - Grandmother Luke_

Things weren't so bad after those first two days. He and Jess settled into kind of a rhythm quicker than Luke would have anticipated. Jess still bandied his sarcasm about regularly, but if he hadn't, he wouldn't have been a Danes.

The things that still worried Luke only popped up occasionally. And like pretty much everything else when it came to dealing with his nephew, he managed to botch those up pretty consistently. First, there were the papers he found shoved under Jess' clothes in the drawer when he errantly tried to be nice and do some of the kid's laundry for him.

"Jess, what is this?" he demanded, shoving a bundle of computer paper printouts under Jess' nose. The heading read: "_**New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene - Crisis Intervention.**_"

"How many times do I hafta tell you to _stay outta my stuff?_" he growled. Luke knew he should've found a gentler way to broach the subject. But Luke didn't really know how to broach subjects gently. He just knew that there were subjects that if you don't broach, they turn into really ugly problems.

"Jess, if you need to talk to somebody-"

Jess rolled his eyes so hard his head rolled with them. "_Ah jeez!" _The boy's teeth set on edge. "That's _not_ what that _is!_" There were shrugging shoulders. "I'm hunky-dory. It's not…"

"Okay, so it's _not_ you! I just thought that-" Luke's mind flashed to the other possibility. So much more plausible, all things considered. "_Oh, no…_Jess, is it really _that bad?_" All sorts of images flashed through his head, each one more frightening than the last.

"_Luke!_" Jess objected.

Luke's voice was borderline frantic. "She's my _sister_, Jess! I need to know!"

"Will you _stop_ _jumping_ to _conclusions!_" Jess groaned, emphasizing each word, as he pulled the papers from Luke's hand. "I got a buddy back in New York who's goin' through some crap. Believe it or not, I was _trying_ to be helpful!"

It took a moment for this to process. Jess' words from a few days prior rang dully in his ears: _my home, my friends._ Had he somehow not heard them until now? Well, whatever it was, the kid needed to know that he wasn't alone.

"Oh, well if you need me to-"

"I don't _need_ anything, Luke! It's really not that big a deal! Just stop trying to be so helpful…and _stop_ being so _stinkin' nosy!_ _Jeez! _You'd think you were my _grandmother_ instead of my uncle!" Jess creased the papers and shoved them back in the drawer.

There had to be some way he could help. If Jess had a friend in that serious a need of intervention, there was no way somebody Jess' age should have to handle that. Luke knew from dealing with his sister's dramatic swings (probably not bipolar, but mood swings that made those of the average teenage girl look like even temperament) that dealing with that kind of thing while you were still a kid yourself was completely unfair.

The other thing was the nightmares. It wasn't like they were every night, but they were the sweating, thrashing and occasionally screaming kind.

"_What are you DOING?!"_

"You sounded like you were having a bad dream."

"_Yeah, and now I'm having a HEART ATTACK! Good job!_"

"Sorry, Jess, I…"

"I know, you were _just - trying - to help…_again. But, if you don't stop trying to help, you might just kill me." Luke clamped his jaw shut. How could the kid blame him for being concerned? Okay, so waking him up had been the wrong move. _I'll know better next time._ "Sorry, Luke. I know you were just…" he sighed. "Sorry I jumped down your throat."

"It's okay. I'll leave you alone."

"Get some sleep."

"You too." The kid let out a short derisive tone that clearly indicated how impossible that would be. Luke went over to the stereo and pushed "play."

Somehow he was going to have to learn to get to the bottom of these things. Jess had such a way of forcing people to gloss over them and act like they didn't exist. But, they did. They did exist.

_**A/N: Reviews really do help. Come on, light a fire under me. Please. A meaningful review for this or any of my stories WILL get me off my lazy writer's behind and with more storyness for all of you.**_


	7. Chapter 7 So Much for Stand-Up Comedy

_**A/N: The middle of this chapter has been sitting on my hard-drive for well over a year, waiting for a beginning and an end. Thanks to lost0and0found for motivating me with her wonderful reviews to continue writing this. I hope that I haven't lost my original readers entirely by my prolonged absence. Here's a shout-out along with profound thanks to any of you who have been with me all along, and a "Welcome! Hope you find much in this story to enjoy," to any of you who have just read this story for the first time. I would love to hear what you think so far. **_

_**And, on to the chapter…**_

_Chapter 7: So Much for Stand-Up Comedy_

It started when they were cleaning out the closet. It was too small a space for the belongings Liz had finally gotten around to sending, but it would help to lessen the chaos slightly. Or, at least it would have if doing so didn't mean displacing the contents of the closet. Most of the things had been there since Luke moved in eight years previously, and there was no good place to put them.

Jess stood there, shoulders slumped in a tired sigh that bordered on the beginning of a headache. Luke kept trying to find a place for every single item they took out of the closet, mostly unsuccessfully, making what Jess had thought would be a fifteen minute project stretch into a third hour.

He bit his lower lip and looked at his uncle with raised eyebrows. Before it formed actual words Jess' tongue lodged itself briefly in his cheek and the eyebrows furrowed into a frown. "_Why_ do you have _bongo drums?_"

Luke held said bongo drums, searching for a suitable stashing place. He paused to address his nephew. "They were your mom's. She was in a…musical phase."

Jess nodded slowly with a look of not exactly humoring somebody who'd lost his marbles. "And you still have them because…?"

"I dunno. I just do," Luke said, his tone absent as he continued his quest for a few inches of shelf space.

"Do you ever throw _anything_ away?"

Luke dropped his nephew a look. "Three bedroom house, plus a cabin, to this. Yes, I threw things away."

"But not the bongo drums…" The teenager wore a reproving look.

Luke shrugged and walked past Jess, shifting trophies and sports gear, etc. on an upper shelf. "They're not mine. I was gonna give them back to her, but…"

"But they were stuck somewhere in a closet."

"Yeah."

Jess continued to nod, even though Luke's back was toward him as he finally got things arranged to the point that the bongos would fit. "Let me know if you actually want me to do something," Jess said in a lackadaisical tone.

"You can keep…" Luke shrugged, "pullin' stuff out, and I'll figure out where to put it."

"O-kay…" Jess turned toward the closet, rifling through until he found a largish object so it would seem as if he were actually accomplishing something. "You play the guitar?" he questioned, wondering doubly that the instrument wasn't in any kind of case.

Luke reached for it. "It was my dad's."

Jess nodded again, turning back to the closet. He knew better than to question anything that had belonged to his grandfather, though that was mostly what filled the apartment.

Next, Jess pulled out a box, and out of it, a rectangular leather pouch with a shoulder strap.

"I've been looking for those!" Luke exclaimed reaching for the bag before Jess had it completely out of the box. He unzipped it and pulled out an antique pair of binoculars. "My dad bought these for hunting." He adjusted the knobs while he spoke, swiveling to look through them out the window. His voice took on a faraway quality, almost an echo of itself. "But they were the greatest for camping in a clearing under the stars. I meant to bring them when…" he looked back at Jess and trailed off, seeing him squinting at a piece of large unrolled heavy paper.

After only a couple of frowning seconds Jess began to read the printed words aloud, slowly and distinctly:

**HOUSE RULES**

**#1 - No hurting or endangering yourself or anyone else.**

**#2 - No illegal activities like stealing, vandelism, underage drinking, etc.  
>#3 - No cigarettes, drugs or weopons.<strong>

**#4 - No running off without permission.**

**#5 - No lying.**

**#6 - No swearing.**

**#7 - No skipping school or home work and no cheating.**

**#8 - No staying out past dark.**

**#9 - No damaging other people's property or borrowing it without their permission.**

**#10 - No tatoos, piercings, weird haircuts or hair dying or anything like that.**

**#11 - No deliberate disobeying or acting rebellious/screaming.**

**#12 - No going with people you don't know.**

**#13 - No taking off your clothes in public. **

When he was finished, he turned toward Luke, the same puzzled scowl on his face and his tone serious, though his words were as flippant as his speech always tended to be.

"So, was this supposed to go next to the _NO CELLPHONES_ sign? I mean, even that seems a little dictatorial. Usually as far as eating establishments tends to go is _No Smoking_ or _No shoes, no shirt - no service. _I mean, of course, there's always the catch-all _We Have the Right to Refuse Service to Anyone_, but with those you're practically asking for discrimination lawsuits to come pouring in. But this…" He held the list at arm's length. "I don't even know how you'd apply this to-"

"It was for you."

It was one of those things where words hung in the air… like they were somehow louder and more resonant because the sentiment was hung with a lead weight. The strange part? He knew. The second he unrolled the paper and saw Luke's black-markered print on the yellowed paper…he knew. Because…who else?

But, he'd never seen it before. Luke hadn't showed it to him. What good was it supposed to do when…? It didn't make sense. It didn't fit. _Yellowed paper. Box. Closet. = Old. _It was from when he was a kid, but…

Luke seemed frozen and Jess let a long sigh out, trying to put it together, but with the pieces unfitting he found words tumbling out of his mouth. Not questions. He couldn't do questions. So instead it was almost ridicule. Not bitter, but probing. Probing as nobody else would do it. Sooner or later, Luke would have to stop him, and when he did, it would be with answers… maybe.

He started off with spelling, and went from there.

"So, my hair has to be immortal. If it dies, I'm in trouble. And this one…this one is interesting. I mean, what qualifies as clothes? Does that mean that I can't _scandalously_ remove my shoes? School showers are definitely out. Swimming would mean getting soaked and water-logged, but I guess I should be used to that after my dip in Anderson's Pond. Just wondering, if it's _reeeally_ hot, can I take off my shirt, or is that a no-go?"

Luke had dropped him a dead-pan glare somewhere during the middle of the last few sentences. "I could have said 'No streaking, flashing, mooning or skinny-dipping,' but then I might have had to explain those concepts to an 8-year-old. I thought this way was better."

An 8-year old. So there's timeframe. There's who and when. The rest of the storyboard thought-mapping questions might pop out if he kept going.

"So," Jess surmised, "you thought I wouldn't know what the _words_ meant, but that I might secretly be an 8-year-old exhibitionist."

Luke opened his mouth and closed it again with a shake of the head, eyes turning heavenward.

Jess extended an index finger toward #11. "I guess that one means no Indian war cries while I turn up the collar of my leather jacket and ride with my motorcycle gang, just like you told me not to." Jess raised his eyes, and even as the rest of his face was like cardboard, one corner of his mouth quirked upward. Luke let out a long-suffering sigh, his shoulders and his expression sagging.

"Jess…" Luke's tone and expression were pained. "I first made this list…" he paused looking at the floor, "so I wouldn't let you down again."

Jess' eyebrows shot up as he did a mental double-take. _So you didn't WHAT? _What on earth would make Luke think that he'd let him down back then? Back when he was eight? Later on, when they lost touch and Liz screwed up everything they thought they knew about each other, sure, Luke could have thought maybe he'd let him down _then,_ but…

His expression clearly clued Luke in that Jess didn't know what he was referring to. "When I caught you smoking, you didn't even know what you were being punished for. That was…dumb-stupid of me not to teach you things like that - to figure Liz would've taught you. I should've known better. I should've known Liz!" Luke shook his head and Jess could see in his face that this had gnawed at him for all the intervening years. "But, instead, I smacked first and asked questions later. I screwed the whole thing up and you paid the price."

The words blew Jess away. His days with Luke as a kid were idyllic…the best part of anything outside of a book that he'd ever known. Camping and fishing and helping Luke work on his truck…baking cookies…just…being there…watching him…doing whatever he was doing…existing in the same space…knowing he was in the next room…getting to be a kid…just a kid. And Luke thought he messed up? _Luke? _

The thing with the cigarette - that had been _one day!_ He remembered the day. He remembered it happening. But, that was really only because, schmaltzy as it might sound, that was the first time in his life he knew without a doubt that somebody cared about him…loved him even. If Luke hadn't brought up the _perceived injustice_, he would never have given it another thought. It was no big deal. But _that_ was what stuck in Luke's mind. He thought he messed up…big time. _Wow. _

"This," Luke continued, batting at the corner of the list spread out in front of them, "was my way of making sure that never happened again. Making sure you knew what to expect and what was expected of you. Making sure you never looked at me again the way you did that day."

Jess nodded slowly, looking at the poster board in an entirely new light. It was another way Luke had showed he cared. But, it was also Luke's guilt in concrete form. Guilt over a simple misunderstanding, and he still carried it with him after all these years! It was stupid…and kind of terrible. Jess pondered briefly as his eyes roamed over Luke's clumsy block letters. He didn't want to say flat-out that it was stupid. Sweet, but stupid. Not so much the list, but the guilt. But, he wished there was some way Luke would _get_ that beating himself up over something like that was…ridiculous and unnecessary. The list was a nice thought, but it wasn't like he'd been dumb enough not to understand his uncle had his best interests at heart and had tried to teach him the best he knew how.

Jess began tapping the cardboard with his forefinger just where it read: **"#2 - No illegal activities like stealing, vandalism, underage drinking, etc**."

"Y'know, it occurs to me, I got into some pretty serious trouble the visit _after_ that for breaking thisone…_with__**out **__the __**benefit**__ of the __**LIST**__!_" he intoned with grave, mocking sarcasm, his eyes wide, nodding to underscore the _sacred list _and its _ponderous, complex _rules.

"Stealing is wrong," Luke deadpanned. Jess nodded with a mock-serious expression.

"Kinda got that," he quipped. "The frat paddle made that point _abundantly clear!_" He gave a smirking wince and put a hand to the seat of his pants as if to rub out the memory of a fire. He knew how to put Luke on the defensive.

"It was _not_ a frat-"

"_Whatever! _Your reprimand made quite an impression!" Jess quoted, though he knew his uncle would never get it. He continued to scan the list. His mocking tone continued as he played this one to the hilt. "Come to think of it, _you_ broke _the #1 rule _with that one!" he pointed, reciting, "**No hurting or endangering yourself or anyone else. **'Cause, believe me-that hurt! SO, it seems to me that by paddling me, you _earned_ a paddling…which does present something of a conundrum. After all, who would give it to you? And after that, wouldn't somebody have to paddle _them?_ _And so forth? _Oh, wait, no! They wouldn't be subject to the rules of the house if they don't live _in this house. _Who would be the best candidate?" he mused with an evil smirk. "Taylor! Of course! Who would perform the duty with more relish? I mean, seriously!"

"Jess-" Luke warned.

"Then again, I'm sure Kirk would be willing! _But, _only if I paid him, and with his upper body strength, or lack thereof, it prob'ly wouldn't be worth it. Nope, Taylor's definitely our man! I should give him a call. I think I have his number around here. 'Cause you know that no matter how much time has passed it's important for justice to be served," he said, punctuating the words with taps to Luke's shoulder using the now rolled-up list, while trying his best to look and sound as stern as a judge.

"_Jess!" _The tone was sharper this time.

"You're no fun, you know that!" Jess shook his head, but his eyes twinkled in impish pleasure at the discomfited expression on his uncle's face.

"Jess, I'm sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you. I just-" he began, but Jess interrupted.

"You didn't, all right!" If Luke had been paying attention, he would have seen a look that was rare to catch on his nephew's face…a look that bore a strange resemblance to a smile. But, Luke wasn't paying attention.

"Jess-"

"Hey look, I mean, don't get me wrong, I did get a little sore, but…" He shrugged and stood blinking, waiting for Luke to get the joke and crack a smile. He just glared. Jess tried again, slower, and with a rolling _come on! _wave of the hand, "I…did…get…a little-" he dropped his head, exhaling. He tilted his head and, squinting, looked Luke in the eye. "So much for my stand-up routine."

Luke leaned forward with that same serious, guilt-ridden look that he'd worn when he explained the origin of the list…maybe more so. Jess groaned inwardly. The man simply wouldn't be budged. He'd tried to alleviate his guilt by showing him how ridiculous it was. Maybe not the best tack. But if sarcasm didn't work, what could he do? Would he have to resort to honesty? More serious physical threats?

"Jess, you can try to laugh it off all you want, but I never should've-" Jess cut him off determinedly.

"Don't you _DARE_ feel guilty about what you did for me back then!" Luke's eyes widened. Jess had never spoken up with that kind of candor in his uncle's presence.

"What?"

"You didn't _hurt_ me. I'm fine!" He had no intention of telling Luke that the physical pain _he'd_ caused wasn't so much as a speck of dust on the scales in the grand scheme of things.

"What do you mean? You just told me that I hurt you so badly you wanted nothing more than for me to get a taste of my own medicine!" There were few times in life in which Jess resorted to an actual, literal face-palm. This was one of them.

"That's _not_ what I-" Jess lifted his hands and let them slam back down to his thighs in pure frustration. "Look, you didn't _put me on the straight and narrow_," he said in hallowed tones, putting his hand to his heart, "and you didn't turn me into a cowering _abused child_." He used air quotes here, and mentally scoffed at Luke for thinking he could actually be traumatized by so little. -_You have no idea, Luke. None.-_

"You didn't exactly teach me any of life's _great lessons_," Jess continued, "but you showed me that I was at least _worth_ putting over your knee and reddening your hand."

This last part seemed to shake Luke a bit. Truth be told, it was meant to.

"The stinkin' pathetic part is, that _meant something_ to me. So, don't you _DARE_ apologize!" After a look that bored into Luke's skull, Jess turned abruptly, grabbed a paperback from the dresser and shoved it in the back pocket of his jeans as he went out, slamming the apartment door.

Luke stood there dumbfounded.

When Jess came back later that evening, his uncle didn't say much - definitely didn't mention the previous conversation - but, sitting on the shelf by Jess' bed, just in front of _Ivanhoe_ through _For Esme - With Love and Squalor_, was a scrolled up, yellowed-around-the-edges poster board. Jess bit the inside of the corner of his mouth, pondering the gesture with a raised eyebrow glance toward the spot where Luke sat on the couch. There were plenty of interesting ways for a person to apologize. But, Jess wondered if this was possibly the first time in recorded history anyone had managed a nonverbal retraction of an apology.


	8. Chapter 8 The Great Prince of the Forest

_**A/N: This is another chapter that's been sitting on my hard drive, perpetually unfinished for a ridiculously long time. Somehow, no matter how much I add to it…it never feels quite complete, but I reckon it's been on my hard drive long enough that if it's not complete after this morning's revisions, it never will be. What prompted me to dust it off and publish it? Why, an episode of Gilmore Girls, naturally. You know the scene in "The Party's Over" where Lorelai comes into Luke's apartment in the maid's outfit? Well, I was looking at that scene when something in the lower left of the screen caught my eye and made me do a quadruple-take….all right…more than a quadruple-take, a freeze-frame, outright stare, thinking that I was hallucinating. To see what I saw (if you don't happen to have your boxed set handy), go to Pinterest under: iscahmckrae/javajunkies-luke-danes-luke-lorelai/ and click on the picture titled: **_5.08 The Party's Over - Maid Outfit_**. Am I hallucinating? Is that a piece of sports equipment that my google searches haven't unearthed…or is that just freaky? I promise you, this is not what inspired the head canon that lead to House Rules, chapter 3…but it certainly could have been. Also, just for the record, the bongo drums and guitar mentioned in the last chapter are indeed items that can be seen at various points in Luke's apartment. But, that was deliberate. This was not. So strange. **_

_**Anyway…on to the chapter.**_

_Chapter 8: The Great Prince of the Forest - It's a Hard-Knock Life_

"You are in SO much trouble!" Luke entered the apartment with lead weighting down his boots and smoke curling out of his ears. Jess took a step backward to avoid the eye daggers which were now protruding in his direction.

"What?" Jess searched through the mental files to figure out which misdemeanor was bringing about this turn of events, but certainly wasn't stupid enough to volunteer any information.

"_Bambi?_" Luke's tone was not amused. Jess' eyes sparkled and he bit his lips together to keep from laughing outright. "This is _not _funny, Jess! Miss Driskell rented that to show to her first grade class!" Luke blustered. Jess' dove, wild-eyed behind the armchair to smother his near-hysterics.

"This is no laughing matter!" Luke thundered. Jess emerged quickly with an air of mock-sobriety.

"No. You're right, it certainly isn't. She could be in a lot of trouble. Copyright law does state that public exhibition of a copyrighted film to audiences of upwards of 20 people, without the proper permission, is prohibited by law. They could sue her for everything she's got, including those ridiculous shoes she insists on wearing because they're supposed to ergonomically support your-"

"This was a classroom full of six-year-olds, Jess! All of whose parents expected that they were going to be shown 'Bambi' in class by Miss Driskell! Do you have any idea the kind of trouble she's in?"

"Her name _was _Bambi!"

"_Jess!_" Luke's eyes shot fire.

"It wasn't false advertising! They technically _did_ see what they went there to see," he pointed out. Luke ground his jaw in a circular motion, either working up to his next tirade or down from cold-blooded homicide.

"You are going to be working every extra shift we've got - and you will not be seeing the outside of this building, outside of class-time for a _very, VERY_ _long time! _You are going to be grounded until the next _geologic age!"_

"Grounded?" Jess feigned surprise.

"_Yes!_"

"You're going to ground me?" he confirmed.

"You better believe it!" Luke assured him with determination.

"What? No paddle?"

Luke glared at him.

"You mean, you've decided to treat me like a _big boy?" _he inquired in condescending, incredulous delight.

"I used that _once!_" Luke declared in self-defense.

"And you will _never_ live it down!" Jess said, jabbing his forefinger at Luke with a sly smile.

"Come on, Jess! Can you be serious for once? You are in serious trouble here, and I'm tryin' to talk to you, and you just keep-"

"Lightening the mood, I know, absolutely unforgivable! I get it, Luke. I learned my lesson. No more educating the younger generation in the finer points of anatomy. I'm grounded and I'm going to stay grounded for a very, _very _long time. I will serve out my sentence scraping off plates in the back of the diner and cleaning out nasty garbage cans…and whatever other loathsome tasks you can dream up for me to do. I get it. I'm a changed man. In fact, to prove I've _really_ learned my lesson, I promise, if I ever mix up Bambi and Bambi again, I'll let you get out the old paddle and give me a refresher course," he smirked. Luke glared again.

"Jess…"

"Don't tell me you got rid of it!" he exclaimed, in mock horror. "I mean, that thing belonged to your dad!"

"And his dad," Luke elaborated. This really did cause Jess' eyes to widen in surprise, and even temporarily stopped the volley of words spouting from the teenager's mouth. "His dad made it," Luke explained. This time the eyebrows shot up, and his head dropped slightly.

"Wait, so you're saying your _grandfather_ _made that thing _and used it on your dad…and then he used it on you?"

"Mm-hmm." Luke nodded. The pattern wasn't lost on Jess, and although the implication was touching, if bizarre, Jess still came dangerously close to making a crack about a legacy of abuse, before realizing that Luke would take it much too seriously.

"Huh." Jess paused for a moment. "I guess I'll just hafta wait till I have a son of my own, so I can take a crack at it, hmm?" he asked mischievously, but with a slight warmth behind his teasing eyes. "Or maybe a nephew," he added, a little more quietly.

Luke didn't answer. He knew that in his own strange, sarcastic, impish way, his nephew had just acknowledged the bond they shared - even without entirely expressing it in words. And, somehow Luke's eyes couldn't look up, and his head ducked awkwardly downward…and his baseball cap was suddenly at the wrong angle…so he had to fix it. Meanwhile, Jess' head tilted to the side with a sinking realization.

"Guess I prob'ly won't have any nephews…" It was almost under his breath, but he jokingly added aloud, "So, I guess I've _gotta_ have kids… and make sure they understand the real _value_ of family heirlooms! I mean, it would be a terrible waste to have that hateful old thing go completely out of commission!"

Again, Luke was at a loss. It had never occurred to him that his father's family line could very well end with Jess. After all, what hope was there that he would ever make it out of stodgy bachelorhood, much less have children of his own? And Jess…who knows what Jess would do. Suddenly, Luke found himself feeling very old…and sick at heart.

"Probably better to retire the thing anyway," Luke snorted. "No good ever came of it."

"I wouldn't go that far," Jess replied, busying himself with rearranging a perfectly organized shelf of CDs. Luke raised his eyebrows inquiringly. Jess changed his tone to deliberate, but false sarcasm. "If it weren't for that thing, you never would have '_declared your love for me'_."

"_What_ did you say?" Luke exclaimed, certain that he'd heard the words wrong. Jess kept fiddling with the CDs to avoid eye-contact.

"Well, you kinda _have_ to tell a kid you love 'em, right before you haul back and clobber them with a frat bat like you're tryin' to knock a baseball clean out of the stadium! Otherwise, you give the kid a complex." For the first time, Luke heard which part of the statement was said in jest, and saw the smile Jess was hiding in his eyes and the corners of his mouth, though he still wouldn't look up. Luke's mouth twitched in a matching half-smile.

"I had no idea you remembered that," he said quietly.

"Kinda hard to forget. I mean, when a lightning bolt strikes your butt, and you find yourself sitting on the kitchen table instead of standing on the floor next to it, with no idea how you actually got there…it tends to be memorable. Then again, as I recall, you said it was meant to be," Jess quipped.

"No, I meant…" Luke trailed off, shrugging one shoulder to indicate another part of the statement.

"I know." Jess stopped, looked at the floor, and then glanced at Luke tentatively. "It's not like I heard the words that often."

"I meant them."

Jess nodded. "I heard them."

Luke nodded. Jess picked up one of the CDs and began feigning perusal of the lyric sheet signaling a tentative end to the exchange of familial sentiment. Luke turned to go back down to the diner.

"Oh, and Luke," Jess called after him. Luke turned and looked back, hand on the door handle. "They won't be scarred."

"Who?"

"The six year olds. The video cut off after a breathy intro. They didn't see anything," he assured his uncle.

"You're still grounded!" Luke reaffirmed.

"Oh, I know!" Jess nodded seriously. Luke smiled and headed for the door shaking his head. "By the way, which one did I break?"

"What?"

"To get me grounded, which rule?" He turned the CD over slowly as he spoke, his eyes remaining on the cover, flicking upward only for a fraction of a second.

"You tell me." Jess walked over, picked up the list, and after unrolling it, ticked off each of the rules with his finger tip, then went back up the list backwards, ending with a shrug.

"To me, it looks like I'm in the clear." Luke reached out and took the list with a sidelong look that said _give me that!_ and his eyes went down point by point.

"Well, Miss Driskoll could lose her job. I'd say that qualifies as hurting someone." Jess shrugged, half-conceding. "You tampered with other people's property."

"Yeah, but the rule says damaged. I damaged nothing! The original discs are just in other cases, no more scratched than before I touched them," he pointed out.

Luke tipped his head and gave him a _you're REALLY gonna debate that one? _expression.

Jess let out a sigh. "Fine," he conceded.

"And, there is a law against it!" Luke said, poking at Rule #2. "I had to do some fancy talking to keep Taylor from convincing Saul to press charges."

Jess pressed his lips together, nodding, rolling the poster board in his hands, suddenly grateful for Luke's blustering-for being grounded, even. He frowned a second later and looked up at his uncle from under the lowered brows. "How'd they know I did it?"

"Surveillance footage. Pretty unmistakable," Luke replied taking the scrolled list and tapping Jess on the shoulder with it before placing it back on the shelf.

"But, I-" Jess began to object.

"You missed one." Luke watched as Jess kicked himself for that piece of sloppy workmanship and hoped the kid would realize he wasn't cut out for pulling those kind of shenanigans, if he couldn't manage a crack job in Stars Hollow Video. "By the way, do I even wanna know what was in _Dumbo_?"

Jess smirked. "They're taking the curtain down, aren't they?" he evaded.

Luke stood there blinking at him, a look of understanding forming in his eyes and a single exhalation of laughter shaking his chest and shoulders. "Yeah…" One side of his mouth betrayed the warmth his nephew's motives caused to creep into his heart. "They're down."

He'd started to see a pattern. Almost every one of Jess' pranks had a calling card, a hidden tinge of altruism or affection. He hadn't been able to fathom yet how a chalk line without a corpse fit the motif, but he was certain he'd find out sooner or later. Luke hardly knew what to make of the whole thing, though. He couldn't let the kid off the hook completely every time just because his mischief had a Robin Hoodesque twist to it. This incident, at least, was already sorted. He'd have to just keep playing it by ear.

"You can start with the copper-bottomed pots with the Barkeeper's Friend. They're getting black. I want them copper again. You'll keep at it 'till they shine. Got it?"

"Yes, Miss Hannigan," Jess retorted, rolling his eyes.

Luke paused momentarily, narrowing his own as he momentarily tried to figure why he'd been addressed as "Miss" anything, but quickly gave up trying to understand. All he knew was that Jess was being a smart-aleck, as usual. "That's enough of that!" Sheesh! With all his quotations and references, he and Lorelai were more alike than either of them would believe.

"I want you down in five."

Jess plastered a smile as fake as the words required-"I love you, Miss Hannigan!"-and suppressed his laughter at Luke's obvious indecision whether to smack him upside the head or make him explain himself. He headed straight down the stairs and back into the kitchen to take a rag to the copper, rather than pushing his luck.

He'd seen Lorelai sitting at the counter, so he didn't wonder who Luke was practically shouting to.

"_Who_ is Miss Hannigan?!"

"Oh, Luke…I can't believe the _sorely neglected_ state of your education!"

_**A/N: Meaningful reviews are like rubbing the lantern and wishing for more stories. More "Pay the Piper" and "EverFixed Mark" in the works…then again, I could also be sweet-talked into more chapters of this or any of my other stories, if that's your pleasure. Just rub the lantern. ;-)**_


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